TARA FINDS RE DOOR™ 
to HAPPINESS. 


By FLORENCE CRANNELL MEANS 


Price, Twenty-five Cents 


Printed for the Woman's Foreign Missionary 
Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church 


by 


FRIENDSHIP PRESS 
150 FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 








Copyright, 1926, by 
HERBERT L. HILL 
Printed in the United States of America 








TARA FINDS the DOOR to HAPPINESS 
Characters 


TARA 
Maryam ¢Moslem Indian girls of Junior age 
SHERIFA 


SELEM: Moslem Indian boy, Junior age, brother of Tara 


JONSING 


JOBANG | Hindu boys 


LockI 


Sita bisind child widows 


Runapat: Hindu girl of low caste (not a speaking part) 
TARA’S MOTHER 


AyYeEsHA: Older Moslem girl, wife of Tara’s eldest 
brother 


Miss Sansom: Young American woman, the mission 
school teacher 


All but the three last mentioned are of Junior age, and 
even they may be represented by tall Junior girls, unless 
it be thought desirable to use that number of older girls or 
young women in the play. 


Word List 


Pring walo: very early in the morning; literally “in the 
night of the morning.” Village mission schools often 
have to convene from five to eight o’clock in the evening 
in order to draw pupils, as the parents will not allow 
them to leave their tasks at any other time 


Koran: the sacred book of the Moslem religion 


Memsahib (Mem-sa-heeb) : the name given by the people 
of India to European and [English-speaking women 


Purdah: the curtain that shuts the women away from the 
rest of the house and from the world 


Zenana: the women’s quarters, in India 


Kabaddi: an active running game played by the children 
of India 


Purdah nashin (na-sheen’): dwellers behind the purdah; 
women of high caste who never leave the privacy of 
their apartments, except rarely in equally private cur- 
tained vehicles 


Neem: one of India’s most beautiful flowering trees 


Burkha: the voluminous white outer garment that covers 
a Moslem woman from the top of her head to her toes 
when she emerges from the zenana; it has openings for 
eyes and sometimes for breathing 


Sweeper: a member of one of the outcaste groups whose 
work is to perform menial tasks in the houses of the 
caste people 


Anna; a small coin of India, equal to a little more than two 
cents of our money 








Costumes 


© Tara, Maryam, and SuHeEriIFA: full-sleeved, bright 
dresses, opening in the front and reaching the knees; 
worn under these dresses, colored trousers, gathered at 
the ankle; heelless mules or plain slippers ; small, round, 
bright caps. In this part of India the hair is parted in 
the middle, braided in many small braids, and these 
braids fastened together with yarn at the ends, and 
the yarn braided into one braid and fastened with a 
tassel. In the second scene, in the zenana, Tara’s 
trousers and cap should be omitted. Bracelets and 
anklets may be worn. 


TARA’S MOTHER, and AYESHA: costumes like those above, 
with the addition of colored veils, three yards long and 
a yard and a half wide, worn over the head and thrown 
over the left shoulder ; an abundance of necklaces, brace- 
lets, and other jewelry. 


Lock1, Sita, and RuNABAI: saris worn over the ordinary 
dresses, and tan stockings to simulate bare feet. For 

Locki’s sari use a strip of gay cheese-cloth, or other 

colored material, a yard wide and eight yards long; for 
Runabai’s, a duller color; for Sita’s, unbleached muslin. 

Wrap it once around the hips and fasten it firmly in the 

center at the waistline; then wrap it around once more, 

so that it forms a straight narrow skirt. Pleat the upper 

edge of the next few yards in your hands, and tuck the 

pleated edge in over the upper edge of the “‘skirt’’ at the 

® center front (you will probably need to pin it securely, 
' though the Hindu manages nicely without). Pass the 
remaining end over the left hip, across the back and 

under the right arm, across the chest, over the left shoul- 

der, and over the head. Locki should wear some neck- 

laces, bracelets, anklets, and rings, and a jeweled head- 

band will add to the effect; Runabai will wear a few 
bracelets; and Sita, none at all. The hair of Locki and 

Runabai should show a center parting. All these girls, 


5 


and the mother and Ayesha, may keep their saris over 
their heads, and, thus partly concealed, the hair will not 
be so difficult to manage. 

SELEM: trousers, preferably of calico and fitted down at 
the ankle; a loose shirt over them; hare feet; a small, 
close red cap, or a turban. 

Jons1nG and JoBANG: a cloth wrapped around the body 
much as a girl’s sari is wrapped, but without the loose 
end over the shoulders and head ; a loose white shirt over 
it; bare feet; cap or turban. 

Miss SANSOM: ordinary American dress. 


Scenes and Accessories 


First scene: a village street. It may be better to leave the 
background of this scene entirely to the imagination, 
having it played in the narrow space in front of the 
curtains. If a more elaborate setting is desired, a screen 
may be painted to represent square mud huts with high 
thatched roofs, and blue sky or the green of trees 
showing between. Such a screen could be made by 
cutting and pasting colored paper in the style of the cut- 
out posters popular at present. 

Second scene: a Moslem zenana. A floor-cloth of canvas 
will simulate a dirt floor fairly well. Necessary acces- 
sories are: a few ragged small mats or rugs and two 
or three dingy cushions; some quilts, and perhaps some 
matting, rolled up in a corner; a rude stove formed of 
three or four bricks set together and supporting a cook- 
ing-pot; a curtain of burlap or sacking at one side. 

Third scene: a village mission school. A plain table with 
a low chair; books and an American doll on the table; a 
picture of Christ on the wall, with other colored Bible 
pictures ; windows indicated by fresh, dainty curtains; 
a phonograph; a canary; mats in a circle on the 
floor. 








TARA FINDS the DOOR to HAPPINESS 


SCENE ONE: STREET IN A NORTH INDIAN VILLAGE 


Sita runs across the front of the stage as if in terror, 
and crouches at the far end of it, covering her head 
with her arms. Jobang, Jonsing, Selem, Tara and 
Locki come hurrying after her. 


Lock1: What’s the matter? Why are they chasing her? 


Tara: Oh, they’re only teasing. And they’ve taken away 
all her pretty things, too. 


Locxi: (Pushing past the boys and standing between 
them and Sita) Don’t hurt her, boys! Please don’t! 


Jonsinc: Why not? She’s a widow, isn’t she? 


Jopanc: Widows needn’t expect anything better, the 
wretched creatures. 


Jonstnc: Yes, probably if it weren’t for her, her husband 
would still be alive. 

Tara: I'd like to know what poor Sita had to do with it. 
Why, her husband lived in another village. You had 
hardly even seen him, had you, Sita? 


Sita: (Uncovering her face and looking up at them) Yes 
—yes, I saw him once, the day I was married to him. 
But that was when I was four years old, and I’ve for- 
gotten even what he looked like. All I remember is that 
he was a cross old man, and he scowled at me when I 
wanted to run out and play during our wedding—and 
slapped me; I remember that. I was glad when he went 
away to his own home. 

Jopanc: When did he die? 


Sita: Just the other day. Cholera. But they say it was 
all my fault, and they’ve taken away my pretty clothes 


7 


and my bracelets, so that everybody can see how bad | 
am. They beat me, too. I don’t see why. 

Jonsinc: Well, of course it was your fault! If you hadn’t 
committed some sin, he wouldn't have got the cholera. 
That’s what they all say. 

Sita: But I’ve been good. Just as good as anyone else, 
anyway. 

Jopanc: If it wasn’t in this life, then it was in some 
other. Anyway, everybody knows widows can’t be 
treated like decent people. 

SELEM: We Moslems don’t believe that. 

Jonsinc: Oh, you Moslems! I guess you’re the only 
ones that are so silly. 

Locx1: Oh, no, they aren’t! The foreign people are just 
as good to widows as to anyone else. 

Jonstnc: Pooh! You're nothing but a girl. What do you 
know about the foreigners ? 

Locxi: (Proudly) I know much about them! Every day 
I go to their school—I go pring walo, in the dark of the 
morning. And though I’ve only begun, already am I 
learning to read and to write and—oh, to do ever so 
many things. It is a place of very great happiness. 

SELEM: Who ever heard of a girl’s learning so much? 
Girls are no better than cows. You're just making it 
all up. 

Locxi: (Holding out a scrap-book she has been carrying) 
See if I’m making it up! Here’s my name on the front 
—“Locki.” With my own hand I wrote it. (Children 
peer at it in awe.) And if only I had my primer book 
here, I could tell you all about how the little red hen 
found a seed. The letters talk it to me as loud and 
plain as the speaking of your voice. 

SELEM: Let’s see what’s inside of that. 

Locxi: (Opening the book reluctantly) Yes, but don’t 
touch, for the street itself is not blacker than your 
fingers. I will turn the pages. (She turns them slowly, 


8 








while they press round her and look, with wide open 
mouths.) 

Jopanc: I never saw a book with pictures like that— 
pictures like life. Where did it come from? 

Locxr: Girls sent it to me from beyond the sea. 

Tara: Well, what did they do that for? 

Locx1: I don’t know, exactly. Only they’re Jesus girls, 
and Jesus people do strange things. They treat every- 
one as a mother treats her first-born son—honestly they 
do. Even widows, like Sita—and me. 

JoBpanc: (Jeeringly) Oh, you'll find out! When you get 
to be twelve, and have your head shaved and your jewels 
taken away, then those foreigners will stone you from 
their doors as you would stone a pig. 

Locxi: (Earnestly) No, they will love me all the more, 
because they will be so sorry for me. They never close 
the door to happiness. 

Sita: But there is no happiness for me—not for ages and 
ages and ages. 

SELEM: What is this picture? Are these girls? They 
have short hair and they are playing ball, but they look 
like girls. 

Lockxr: They really are girls. In America, across the sea, 
girls play. Even big girls, old enough to be married 
and have a dozen children; girls twenty years old! (All 
the children look amazed.) Why, we play games even 
in the little school here, and in the garden behind it, 
the garden with the high wall; and the teacher lady 
plays with us. 

SELEM: What is this room for? 

Locxr: That’s the place for the preparation of food. They 
call it “kitchen.” Would you ever guess that the shiny 
blue and white thing on long legs is a stove? And I'll 
tell you something else: the smoke from that stove— 
well, there isn’t any! 

They all stare at her, shaking their heads doubtingly. 


9 


JoBanc: (Aside to Jonsing) If she didn’t have the pic- 
tures, I’d know she was making it up! 


Locki: And the Memsahib says the reason so many of 
our people have the bad sickness of the eyes is because 
the smoke from our cooking runs round and round our 
houses, seeking a way to get out, and goes into our eves 
instead, to make us blind. 

Sita: (Enviously) See how wise she is, this Locki who 
only yesterday knew no more than you or I! And she 
only a girl, and a widow, besides. But they would never 
take me? Surely, Locki, they would never open the door 
of happiness to me? 


Locx1: Maybe they would. I think they open the sooner 
for widows, because it is so cold and so dreary for us 
outside. 

Tara: (Piteously) It’s almost as bad for a Moslem girl, 
when she gets to be eleven. Do you know what my 
mother says? She says my father is going to put me 
behind the purdah now—because today is my eleventh 
birthday and I’m grown up. Oh, you don’t know what 
it means to have to stay behind the purdah at our house! 
To live always in those two little, little rooms-of-the- 
women, and never get outdoors to play— 


SELEM: (Giving her a little shake) Hush! Girls haven’t 
any right to expect more than that. It’s the way of the 
world and the will of Allah. Allah be praised that I am 
a boy! (More gently) Hush, little sister! (Turning 
to Lockt) I don’t see myself why they shouldn’t take 
Tara in that school as well as you. Tara’s not so stupid 
~—for a girl. I guess if any woman can learn the reading 
and writing, my sister can, 


Locx1: Well, maybe; there are Moslem girls, too. 


Voice: (From behind the curtains) Tara! Tara! Come 
quickly. Your father desires your presence at once. 


Tara: (Looking frantically this way and that) Oh, I 
don’t want to go! I don’t want to! 


10 








Locxt: (Pressing the scrap-book to her breast and then 
holding it out to Tara) You may take my beautiful book 
—for just a little while, a little, little while. If you 
have to stay in the house all the time, you will have the 
pictures to look at. 


Tara seises the book, holds it close, smiles, and goes 
off stage to right, while Locki calls after her. 

Locx1: You'll wash your hands before you turn the pages, 
Tara? And you'll be very, very careful? 


SCENE TWO: MOSLEM ZENANA IN NORTHERN 
INDIA 


When curtain rises, Tara’s mother is seen reclining 
in oriental fashion on the floor, elbow on cushion, 
looking at the scrap-book. Ayesha 1s sitting cross- 
legged and diligently blackening her eyebrows and 
lashes. Tara is peering through the opening of the 
curtain at the side of the stage. 

TarRA: (Turning toward Mother) But Mother, I want 
to go out with the other children! Lela is still playing. 
(Looking out again) They’re playing Kabaddi. Ooh! 
Hurry, Lela! Hurry! Hurry! (She turns again to her 
mother, pleadingly.) Lela’s still out; why shouldn't I 
be? 

MotuHer: Lela’s a year younger than you, my daughter. 
Your father says it’s a disgrace for you to be running 
the streets, now that you are such a great girl. 

TarA: (Crouching, to make herself seem smaller) But 
Mother, I’m not so big. I don’t want to be a woman 
yet. Oh, Mother! Let me be a little girl, yet a while 
longer ! 

MotHeEr: Ah, my poor little one, if only I could! 

AYESHA: We'd all be glad enough to be little again, foolish 
child. Certainly nobody would ever choose to be a 
woman—in India. 

Tara (Turning from the curtain and picking up a little 
roll of rags, which she cuddles and croons over, as a 
doll) But, Mother, Father doesn’t really mean that I’m 
never to go out of this house again? Never? 

MorH_ER: (Solemnly) Until you go to the house of your 
husband, my child—probably never. We are poor, but 
we are not low outcastes, we are purdah nashin. 


12 








Tara: (Wildly) But what am I to do? 

AYESHA: Do what the rest of us must do—nothing. Rise 
in the morning and eat and comb your hair and paint 
your eyebrows and your cheeks; and eat again when 
it is the time; and walk up and down the room; and 
rest and dream; and eat when it is time for eating; and 
go to bed. And wish, wish, wish, all the time, that you 
were a country woman who might sometimes look upon 
the trees and let the seem blossoms float down on her 
head, and be free! 

Tara: Oh, I can’t stand that! I’m only—why, I’m only 
a little girl. Really, Mother, I’m only a little girl! I’ve 
been shut up here just one day, and I can’t stand the 
long, long days ahead. 

MortHeER: Poor little Light-of-the-Moon! Look upon 
your mother, Child. She has not stepped outside the 
wall of the zenana but thrice in the twenty years since 
she was brought here a bride. We learn to stand it. Ah, 
we learn too well, do we not, Ayesha, wife-of-my-son ? 
The zest of life droops within us. Even you would 
not today walk willingly beyond the shadows of your 
dwelling, for all your wild talk of seem trees. 

Tara: Mother, if I could only read! If I could but write, 
Mother! If I had more books like this one! Then 
there would be something to do, something to think of. 

MorHeEr: Yes, to be sure; but reading and writing are 
not for us. We women have hardly so much mind as 
the cattle of the field. Never have I known a woman 
who could read. Except of course the memsahibs; 
they do say that all the memsahibs read and write and 
have the brains of men. 

TaRA: But, Mother, Locki is learning, too. Already she 
can read of birds and flowers and hens, and write her 
name in printing like the pictures. 

AyEsHA: Locki? She is making sport of you! 

Tara: No, truly. If you will look at the cover of the 
book you will see her name. She made it herself. It 


13 


says “Locki™ to all who have understanding. She learns 
at the little school the American women have for the 
girls. 

MortHer: (Hastily) ‘there is no God but God, and 
Mohammed is his prophet! Children like you had bet- 
ter not talk so freely of the school of the English 
infidels. Bold women! Through the curtain I have seen 
them, walking the public street with their faces re- 
vealed to every passerby. 

AYESHA: (Sullenly) I wish I were one of them! 


Tara: Truly, they don’t teach Locki any wickedness, 
Mother. She’s nicer than she used to be. I don’t know 
but she’s even nicer than I am—and kinder. And the 
cleanness of her hands! Why, even her finger-nails 
must be as white as the new moon. And she won't 
sing the ugly songs any more. 

MoTHER: (Thoughtfully turning the pages of the scrap- 
book) To be sure, I was astonished at your father. 
I showed him the book, and he looked long at these 
bold-faced girls that play the ball. I asked him if they 
were not a sad spectacle beside our maidens who hide 
their faces from all the world; and lo, your father 
said they did not look so very bold, but happy, as a 
father would like to see his daughters if it were accord- 
ing to the law of Mohammed. And the houses, he said, 
they were too much like Paradise to be anything in this 
world. Do they do anything else in that school, besides 
learning to read and write and know the wide world? 


Tara: Oh, yes! It is very wonderful! They sing songs. 
(She hums the air of a hymn.) And the teacher woman © 
calls music out of a box to sing with them. And they 
have pictures and pictures and pictures, red and yellow 
and blue, like these. When you’re good and don’t say 
the swearing words, you maybe get one to keep for 
your own. 
AYESHA: I'd like that myself, even though I am seven- 
teen. Do they do anything more? 


14 





Tara: Embroidery and sewing—but I don’t care much 
for that. And lace. What I would like is ihe stories 
the teacher woman tells them, stories without an end, 
and none to make you fear to go to bed at night. And 
they have a golden bird in a golden cage, [ocki says. 
And there are dolls with real hair on their heads, and 
eyes that move; each girl may undress one and dress 
it, if she is good. And the stories, Mother! If I were 
to go to that school I could tell you all the stories, when 
I came home, and— 

MorHeERr: You go to school? What crazy talk! 

Tara: If Locki goes, why shouldn’t I? 

Moruer: I’ve heard it whispered that Locki’s household 
has been poisoned with this foreign religion; they are 
almost Christians themselves, thrice-accursed ones. 
Strange, though, that even the Christians would bother 
with Locki. I didn’t suppose that anyone would take 
any trouble for a Hindu widow. 

AYESHA: Are there any Moslems in the school, Tara? 

Tara: (Triumphantly) There are! Maryam and Sherifa 
and more—as many as the fingers on my two hands, 
Locki says. 

Motuer: I should love to know what that foreign wo- 
man’s hair is like when her hat is off. And whether 
they really wear their shoes in the house, as I have 
heard. 

AyresHA: And whether it’s true about the singing box; 
probably it’s only a fairy tale. It would certainly pass 
the heavy hours if she could tell us stories and sing us 
new songs. And—I would like the embroidery. 

MortHer: But what man would marry a girl who could 
read and write like a boy? Tara is not yet even 
betrothed, and we must do nothing that might keep 
her from marrying well. 

Voice oF SELEM: (Through the curtain) I, Selem, am 
one who would marry a reading-and-writing-girl, and 
that gladly. So would Moosa! It would be much bet- 


15 


ter than having the women of your zenana know noth- 
ing to talk of but clothes and jewels and gossip. 


MortHeErR: My son! Shame upon you, listening there at 
the curtain! And what do you and Moosa know of it, 
anyway? 

SELEM: And he vows that at least one of his wives is 
to be a girl that has gone to the school, so that she can 
tell him stories and amuse him, and keep the other 
women and the children in a better humor. My father 
says his words are wise, for it is becoming well known 
that the educated women carry sunshine with them, 
instead of the thunder-storms most wives wear on their 
brows. 


MoruHe_Er: Go about your play, my son, and leave off your 
eavesdropping and shameless chatter. Whatever is 
coming over our lords the men in these strange times? 
Perhaps better days are dawning for us womenfolk. 


Tara: (Clutching her mother’s hand and pressing it to her 
face) Mother! Will you ask my father? Will you 
beg him and tease him to let me go? I'll be much bet- 
ter. I won’t coax to play in the street. I won’t pinch 
the baby when I have to hold him. [I'll tell you all the 
stories. I'll tell you what the teacher says every single 
day—every least word of it. Ill tell you what she 
wears. 


MortHer: Hush, hush, thou chatterbox! You deafen my 
ears. Yes, I'll ask your father—though I warn you 
my words may have no more weight than thistledown 
on a wall of stone. 


Tara: Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother! If you ask him 


long enough and hard enough, I know he’ll let me go. 
(She whirls round wildly). To school! To school! 








@ 


SCENE THREE: MISSION SCHOOLROOM _ 


Miss Sansom is at desk. Maryam, Sherifa, and 
Runabai are sitting on mats on the floor, Maryam 
and Sherifa embroidering, Runabai apparently mak- 
ing letters on a Slate or with a brush on a piece of 
white board. Locki enters, ushering in Tara’s mother, 
Ayesha, Tara, and Sita. The Moslem woman and 
girls carry each a sheet folded loosely over her arm, 
to suggest the burkha she has presumably worn 
through the streets. All gaze about the room with 
the liveliest curiosity. Miss Sansom rises and ap- 
proaches them. 


Locx1: Miss Teacher, good day! I have brought visitors. 


Miss Sansom: How do you do? How do you do, Locki? 
We missed you at school today. Lessons are finished 
and all the children have gone except these few. 


Locx1: Tara and her mother and Ayesha must needs 
come in a cart—because they are purdah nashin, you 
know. Sita and I have waited long outside the door, 
and they have but just come. 

Tara’s MotHer: The fingers tremble with eagerness and 
are clumsy at their tasks, Memsahib, when one has not 
seen the world for many moons. 

Miss Sansom: (Indicating mats on the floor) Will you 
be seated ? 


Mother and Ayesha sit down. 


Tara: (/n a loud whisper, pointing in amazement at Run- 
abai) Isn’t that a sweeper girl in the very room with 
you Brahmins? How does she dare? 


All stare. 
Lock1: Hush, Tara! We don’t have caste here; it is left 


17 


outside the door when we enter. (Sie runs over to 
Runabai and slips an arm round her shoulder, caressing 
her lightly.) See! It didn’t hurt me, even if I am 
Brahmin. Before I came to school I’d have thought it 
would cast me into the bottomless pit. I guess—I guess 
it’s Jesus that makes the difference. (She points to 
picture of Jesus.) He loves everybody, and here in the 
school we try to do as he does. 


Sita: Widows, too? He doesn’t love widows ? 


Miss Sansom (Taking the child’s hand in her own) Oh, 
yes, dear! He loves all little children, whether they are 
widows or not. 


Sita: (Approaching the picture and looking up at it in 
wonder) I didn’t know there was anybody that loved 
widows. No! Everyone beats us, and kicks us, and 
swears at us! 


Tara puts out a finger toward the doll, and looks 
questioningly at Miss Sansom. Miss Sansom takes 
it up and hands it to her. 


Miss Sansom: Hold it a little while, dear, if you’d like 
to. And perhaps (turning to Mother and Ayesha) you 
would like to look at the books the girls have sent .us 
from America. 


Miss Sansom hands them books, and goes on putting 
desk in order. Ayesha’s and Mother’s expressions 
continue bewildered and intensely curious. Tara 
meantime holds the doll up carefully, turns it slowly 
around and then over and over; exaniines its shoes 
and hair; tips it cautiously to horizontal position. 


Tara: (Loudly, running to her mother and Ayesha) It 
does! It does! It moves its eyes! That wasn’t a fairy 
story. 

Ayesha inspects it, and hands it to her mother and 
she gives it back to Tara, while others are talking. 
Locx1: Wasn’t a single bit of it a fairy story! They 

don’t like to have us tell lies here at school. 


18 








Sita: (Looking around from the picture, at which she has 
still gazed with clasped hands) Is there anybody in 
the world that doesn’t tell lies? 

Lock: (Pointing to Miss Sansom) She doesn’t! Not 
ever. 

Mother and Ayesha look up from their books and 
shake amazed heads. 

Tara: (Standing before the bird-cage, with the doll 
clasped tightly to her breast) Do you hear that, Mother 
and Ayesha? And to think I’m to come to this place 
like Paradise—every day! 

Miss SANsoM: (Anxiously) Every day? (She looks in- 
quiringly at Mother and Ayesha, who nod profoundly.) 

Tara: (Joyously) My father has said it! We never 
dreamed he would, but he has said it—if it didn’t cost 
anything. He said he was sick of having all his women 
wailing around the zenana and weeping rivers of tears 

and that anyway his child might have joy and knowl- 
edge if other women-children were found able to re- 
ceive it. 

Miss Sansom: But 

Sita: And I can come, too! My mother-in-law beat me 
first time I asked, but I’m not much good for work 
anyway, now my back is so bad—so she doesn’t care if 
I come. She doesn’t care what I do, so long as it 
doesn’t cost any money. 

Miss Sansom: (Putting her head down in her hands) 
Oh, children, how can I tell you? There is no room 
for you in the school. We can’t manage to take care 
of another girl. Not one! 

Tara, Sita, and Locki look at one another silently, 
with dazed, pussled faces, then at the mother and 
Ayesha. 

Tara: But Locki said you wanted girls. And my father 
—he has said yes. You don’t mean—truly—that we 
cannot come? 








19 


Miss Sansom: It takes a little money for every girl, 
dears. And I’ve used all there is, and all I could pos- 
sibly squeeze out of my own pocket-book, and there 
isn’t enough for another girl, not another one. 


Tara: (Her eyes wide) But I can’t! I tell you I can’t 
go back there with nothing to do—nothing to do and 
nothing to look at. It will be worse than ever after 
seeing this! (She waves her hand at the whole scene.) 
I—can’t! 


Sita: Nor I. I thought I could stand the curses and the 
kicks, if I had this, part of the day. This—and—-Him. 
(She nods toward the picture, and finishes slowly.) 
He cares about—widows. 


Locxi: (After pressing her hands to her eyes) Oh, Miss 
Teacher! I promised them. I thought surely—can’t 
we squeeze up and manage somehow? 


Miss Sansom: (Shaking her head slowly and sadly) 
Not unless they could pay a little money, just enough to 
buy the things we would need for them. 


Sita pulls her sari across her face and turns her back 
to the audience. Tara stares with a little hope at her 
mother, who shakes her head. 


MoruHer: Alas, there has not been money to keep rice in 
our bowls and whole clothing on our shoulders. “It 
is fortunate that these foreigners are so rich—and so 
strangely generous.” Those were the words of her 
father. “For I could not this year pay a single anna 
for the schooling. Do not ask it, for it cannot be.” 


Tara lays the doll slowly on the desk and sits down 
beside her mother, bowing her head on her knees. 
Ayesha holds out her arms and looks at her bracelets, 
then lifts her necklaces and weighs them in her hands. 


AYESHA: (To the mother) I do not know what your son 
will say. But how can I see the little sister shut out in 
the cold and dark as we have been, when the door is 
open for her? 


20 





She pulls off most of the bracelets and necklaces and 
rises, carrying them in her two hands to Miss San- 
som, while the mother stares in surprise. 


AyESHA: Will you sell them and let the little one come 
into the brightness? 


Mother rises quickly and interrupts her, taking off 
some of her own jewelry as she comes. 


MorTHeErR: Your young thoughts speed past my old ones, 
wife-of-my-son. But let none say that your love could 
outrun mine. Take my jewels likewise, Memsahib. I 
know that they are no more than baubles, for we are 
poor folk, though high of birth. Is it enough? 


Miss Sansom: But will you suffer too greatly for this? 
Will—will your husbands 





MoTHeErR: We can endure what we must, the wife-of- 
my-son and I. And I do not think we shall be made 
to suffer greatly. The father of Tara is tender of the 
child, even though shame will not let him show it; and 
my son will heed the words of his mother. Are the 
jewels enough? 


Miss Sansom: (Looking down at the jewels) I am sure 
they are enough—enough for a year for Tara, perhaps 
even more. 


Tara, who has sat erect and wide-eyed, now rises and 
approaches them with clasped hands. 


Tara: Is it true? It is real? And you would give your 
jewels for me? (She fondles the hands of her mother 
and Ayesha.) And I am to come here every day? 
Every day! 


As she speaks, she turns with a start toward Sita, 
still standing with her back turned toward the audi- 
ence, her arm across her face. Tara looks from the 
others to Sita and back. 


Tara: But Sita? Can’t Sita come, too? 
21 


Moruer: I dare not take more jewels. And she is noth- 
ing to us. She is not even a Moslem. I am sorry, my 
daughter, but 

Tara: (Fingering her sari, head down) It would not be 
so glad for me—if Sita were shut out. It would be like 
eating my rice while another looked on and starved. 


AyESHA: That is foolish talk, little one. Accept what is 
given and be glad. What is written on our foreheads 
will come to pass. Of course we are sorry for the girl. 
But as thy mother says—what is a Brahmin widow io 
a Moslem? 

Tara: (Brightening) Memsahib, I know! I know! The 
jewels would bring enough to keep one girl in school 
a year at least? (Miss Sansom nods.) Then, why 
cannot Sita and I be the one girl? 

Miss Sansom: But what do you mean, Tara? 

Tara: It is quite simple. Thus—(She indicates the days 
on her fingers.) On the first day of the week will come 
the Sita-half of the girl. (She laughs gleefully.) And 
after she has learned the lessons in the school, she will 
come to our home and teach them to the Tara-half also. 
On the second day of the week comes the Tara-half 
to the school, and afterward, within her mother’s 
zenana, she will teach Sita likewise what she has learned. 
On the third day again the Sita-half—and so on, until 
we are two girls as wise as the sages—or even as Locki 
herself! Why, it may be that we could teach the read- 
ing and writing to Ayesha, too, though she is old to 
learn. 

Sita twists round to gase with amazement and hope. 

AyesHa: Too old! What I would like is the embroidery 
and the singing. 

Miss SANsoM: (Quickly) And you shall have it! I will 
come to your zenana myself to teach you. But the beau- 
tiful plan that Tara has suggested—are you willing 
that it should be so? It is a beautiful thought, a beau- 
tiful, generous thought. 





Za 





AYESHA: But—a Brahmin widow 


Locx1: The Memsahib came to teach Brahmin widows-- 
and Moslems—and even sweepers. She came away 
from a house like those in the scrap-books 





MorHer: I don’t see what's come over the child. 


Locki: It’s the way He did. (Nods toward the picture.) 
Sita has turned, and she comes closer and stands silent 
and tense. 


Tara: Mother! Ayesha! | beg of you, permit it to be so. 
I will be so good! 


They look at one another. 
MotHER: (Slowly) Well, we might try it and see. 


AYESHA: I suppose it’s all right, if it’s what you want 
to do. 


Tara and Sita stretch out their hands to one another 
and clasp them, smiling, while the others gather in a 
group behind them, looking in a general way toward 
the audience. 

Miss Sansom: Don't be late, Tara, Sita! We shall be 
ready for you tomorrow—in the dark of the early 
morning. 

Tara: (Slowly, with wonder and joy) To—school! 

Sita: In at the door of happiness ! 


23 


